


Thoughts and Revelations

by sockthief



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, Modern AU, basically their entire adolescent lives, everyone has their own issues, i know im taking on a lot here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 07:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5366210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sockthief/pseuds/sockthief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin has always seemed to know what she wants, but when a confession shakes her foundation, she finds herself hiding in her chosen profession, only to end up alone at 2 in the morning, thinking about the series of events that led to it. (modern au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How it Began (How It Ended Up)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Polished this up a bit. This doesn't make any sense right now, but hang tight.

As much as she tossed and turned, Clarke just couldn’t seem to make herself comfortable. For a week, she tried to get reacquainted with an actual mattress, running water and the dull noise of her ceiling fan rather than the hum of mosquitos. She had gone to bed hours ago but her mind just wouldn’t shut up. Finally, she decided to cut her losses. Rest would be pointless anyway. She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and reached for the pair of jeans she had worn she the past three days to complement her favorite pair of underwear and oversized t shirt that had once belonged to Bellamy, but had since been forgotten after he had left it at her place. But that was months ago, and somehow, it still clung to his scent. She tried not to think about how he smelled, then or now. No, especially not now.

Turning on lights as she went, Clarke headed for the kitchen down the hall of her small and, in her mind, rather poorly laid out apartment. Before Clarke really knew what she was doing, she started pulling her hair up into a lazy knot, then proceeded to find a bowl, measuring cup and some vegetable oil. Next, she grabbed some eggs and a box of cupcake mix. She mindlessly preheated the oven to the specified temperature and mixed the required ingredients together. She spooned the mix into the cupcake tray and then licked the rest clean. The instructions required the cupcakes to bake for twenty minutes, so after putting them in the oven, Clarke sat on the counter and watched the numbers on the timer. She admired their consistency. _Time,_ she thought, _is a very funny thing_. Everyone counted on time. Numbers never skipped or doubled or stopped. _Time only sucks when you run out of it._

The timer beeped, startling her. The sound rang in her ears, seeming louder in the dead of night. Clarke carefully removed the steaming tray from the oven, setting it aside on the stove while she dug for a can of frosting in the pantry. She left the cupcakes to cool for a few minutes and then began to slowly and charitably frost them.

Her seventh cupcake, however, either hadn’t been allowed to cool long enough or was not cooked all the way through, because it fell from her hand and landed on the floor in a gooey mess. All she could do was stare. The cupcake was disposable, she knew, and did not matter in the grand scheme of things, but that didn’t stop the flow of tears that began to stream their way down her pale and tired face. She sank to the floor, crossed her legs, and sobbed into her hands. And suddenly, she wasn’t crying because of a ruined cupcake, but for everything that came before it, for everything that led to her tears hitting the linoleum at 2:37 in the morning. She was crying for the friends she once had and the lover she lost. She cried for her selfishness and for her compassion and her big mouth. She _cried because she was sorry and because she couldn’t turn back time._

_Time is such a bitch._


	2. The First Day (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not exactly sure where I'm going with this yet, but hold on, it'll be good.
> 
> Music inspiration: Seventeen by Alessia Cara

If she really concentrated, Clarke thought she could remember the first time she met Bellamy Blake. She would remember they had been in the same psychology class senior year. They first spoke on a day when Clarke had been even more stressed out than usual. She had college visits to plan and internships to apply for and a million other things to think about and was thoroughly distracted when they were assigned the homework.

"Shit." Clarke swore under her breath when the bell rang. She turned around to where her best friend sat, however, Raven was absent that particular day, and Clarke swore again. This caught the attention of Bellamy Blake. Sitting two rows behind her, he looked up from his rather messy desk to answer her.

"Need the homework, Griffin?" he offered as he began packing up his belongings.

"Uhh yes, thank you."

"Read and summarize chapters seven and eight." He replied and Clarke groaned.

"Ughh okay thanks!" she quickly wrote the assignment on her hand in blue ink and hastily headed off to her next class, making a mental list of everything she had to accomplish that day. Psychology summaries, chemistry problems, challenge questions for physics- why had she decided to take two sciences this year? Oh yeah. She wanted to be a fucking doctor. She also had to meet Jasper and Monty at the library to study for that stupid trigonometry test next week and volunteer at the hospital where her mom worked. There is absolutely no way I'm going to make it through today.

Clarke was thankful that her last class of the day was health and she was even more thankful that it was with Mrs. Dower. She was a senile old lady who would probably be much better off away from high school aged children. Instead, she taught them to beware of strangers and fear germs in an altered version of health class where the curriculum centered around sci-fi apocalyptic movies where a virus finally emerges that the world cannot cure. Normally, this suited Clarke just fine. She liked being able to sit in the back of the room and get some other classwork done since the only thing she had to do to get an A with Mrs. Dower was show up. That day, however, she was overwhelmed and anxious and couldn't manage to get much of anything done, so when the final bell rang, she jumped out of her seat before swinging her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door.

It was a short walk to the town library from the school and it only took Clarke fifteen minutes to get there. She found Jasper Jordan and Monty Green at their favorite table near the stacks on the second floor.

"Hey, Clarke!" Jasper called, earning him a glare from the librarian.

"Hey."

"Hi guys," She greeted them before proceeding to take out her textbook and graph paper, "What's up?"

"Didn't Raven ditch today?" Monty asked as she sat down across from them. She didn't see that he was looking past her.

"Yeah, did she tell either of you why?" Clarke responded with a question of her own.

"Why don't we ask her," Jasper nodded somewhere to Clarke's left and she spun around to meet the eyes of Raven Reyes, who was in the process of sauntering towards them.

"What the fuck, Raven, why'd you ditch?" Clarke inquired as her friend took the empty seat next to her, leaning back lazily in the chair.

"I didn't feel like going," She shrugged, "Besides, it's good to ditch every once in a while."

"You're crazy." Clarke lamented, "You're not even sick or anything!"

"This is true," Raven shrugged again, "But I figured I'd come hang with you nerds anyway. I'm bored out of my mind."

"That's cool with me but this trig test is like, super important so please please please, just shut it." Raven knew that "shut it" was Clarke's way of politely telling you to shut the fuck up so instead of interrupting the rest of the group, she took a piece of graph paper from Clarke's notebook and doodled on it for near to forty five minutes. She was just about to filch another sheet of paper when Jasper stood up.

"I feel a lot better about the new material Sinclair gave us, so this was good but I gotta go." He excused himself hastily but didn't make it two steps when Monty stopped him.

"Wait a minute; are you going on date number three with Maya?" Monty accused noticing the smitten expression on Jasper's face, "Why didn't you tell me!" he was having trouble finding an expression that conveyed happiness for his friend and disappointment in the lack of confidence.

"I don't want word to get around just yet. It's not really official so keep it under wraps." Jasper blushed, "We're going on a fro-yo date."

"That's really great, Jasper." Clarke smiled, congratulating him.

"Hey, isn't she French or something?" Monty inquired, smirking, a tell-tale sign he was about to make a joke.

"Uhh," Jasper thought in all seriousness, "I don't know. Why?"

"Well, her last name is Vie and that means life in French." He laughed to himself but Raven did him one better.

"She's probably Italian then. Get it? My-a life!" Raven sat back to bask in her punny work while Monty and Clarke made various expressions while determining whether Raven's jest was actually funny, or so bad that they were obligated to laugh. Jasper just rolled his eyes.

"Ha ha. See you guys later." And he was gone. Clarke was the next to stand.

"I've got to get to the hospital. My mom will be expecting me."

"I'll give you a lift. I'm headed that way anyway. What about you, Raven?" Monty offered.

"I'm all set. I'm gonna see what other trouble I can cause before the sun goes down." She smirked mysterioiusly. The three of them walked out of the library together but Monty and Clarke took a right to the parking lot and Raven took a left and started along to sidewalk, saluting Monty and Clarke as they drove by a few moments later.


	3. The First Day (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so embarrassing how long it took me to update. Pathetic, actually. I have this story all planned out it's just a matter of writing it all down. Anyway, I'm way too tired and lazy to proofread so sorry for any mistakes you may (will) encounter. Enjoy!

Clarke didn't particularly enjoy her volunteer work at the hospital, but she knew it would look good on her college application and help her get an internship. That was how she had started to measure her time lately: the degree to which her activities would help her get into a good school.

The hospital was busier than usual that evening, even though the town was of a medium suburban size. Clarke could hear the commotion in the bays lining the ER and she could see groups of people clustered together, dotted all over the waiting room, which she could see from where she sat organizing files behind the secretary's desk.

There wasn't even a full moon.

Abigail Griffin came in to check on Clarke around seven-thirty, bringing her a packaged salad from the cafeteria. She gave her daughter a tired smile.

"You can go home any time you want, you know," she reminded Clarke as she opened up the salad she had picked up for herself.

"I know, mom. I'm just going to finish this pile, I'm almost done." Abby smiled again, admiring her daughter's determination, even with the tedious of tasks.

All of a sudden, the ER doors burst open and both Griffins jumped up at the noise.

Two men carried another between them with their head bent over so Clarke couldn't see his face. The men carrying him practically had to drag him in and he was bleeding all over the floor.

"Someone help! Help him!" one of the men cried. Clarke recognized that voice. It was Nathan Miller, she realized as she concentrated on him instead of the bleeding boy he was holding. She knew him from her English class.

"He's been stabbed!" the other one specified with similar urgency. She then focused on the man opposite of Nathan. It was Lincoln, also from her English class. Clarke didn't need to see the face of the boy between them to know who it was. A mop of messy brown hair, flanked by his two best friends could only mean that it was Bellamy Blake.

Clarke was frozen in her spot behind the secretary's station, but her mother was already next to Lincoln, guiding Bellamy's body onto a stretcher. Other patients sitting in the waiting room glared at Bellamy as he was quickly rolled down a hallway. Clarke forced herself to move from her pile of forgotten files to watch what was happening. All of the bays were full, so they parked Bellamy against a wall, and a nurse grabbed bandages to slow the flow of blood that was emanating from his stomach while another set up a temporary IV drip before propping his head up with a pillow. Abigail Griffin was talking softly into Bellamy's ear while chaos ensued around him. When he didn't respond, she started talking louder, and then shook his shoulders. A doctor was holding Lincoln and Nathan back a little farther down the hall, opposite to where Clarke stood, out of the way.

"Bellamy! Wake up, man!" Nathan screamed, earning the pair of them a call to security.

"We're going, we're going!" Lincoln conceded before they could be forcibly kicked out. He grabbed Nathan's jacket, and, because he was considerably more muscular, hauled Nathan out to the waiting room.

"Let's go get Octavia. We'll go get her, okay?" Lincoln said over and over until Nathan slowed his breathing and nodded numbly. Lincoln still held on to the back of Nathan's jacket as they turned to leave. Clarke had followed the boys back down the hallway, losing them for a second as she passed by the wide pillar of the check in desk.

"Hey!" she called, just before they passed through the automatic doors, "What the hell happened?" she demanded, not bothering with formalities. Lincoln glanced at Nathan before responding.

"Murphy."

"John Murphy? John Murphy stabbed Bellamy?" She had to clarify. The two boys just looked down at the floor, as if they were ashamed. It was again Lincoln who spoke.

"We have to pick up Octavia." And Nathan nodded.

"Who's Octavia?" Clarke asked, not getting the full picture from the short responses of her classmates.

"Bellamy's sister." It was Nathan who answered her this time.

"Okay. Go. I'll stay here to make sure he's okay. My mom will take care of him. Go." And with a slightly confused look from the both of them, they hurried out to Lincoln's jeep, which Clarke tried not to think about the amount of blood that must be in the back seat.

Clarke spent the next two hours sitting in her spot behind the desk trying, and failing, to concentrate on her homework. She had gotten through most of it, but she kept nodding off while reading for psych. That or her mind found its way back to Bellamy, who was still in surgery.

She decided it could wait until her free period the next day and she shut her textbook. The ER had calmed down since she had last looked out over the waiting room. She heard voices then, and thought someone else had come in, when she recognized the voice of her mother. Clarke flew into the hallway.

"Mom," she called, Abby turned, almost startled, and sighed.

"Clarke, I thought you had gone home," She scolded, "It's getting late."

"My homework is done, I promise. I wanted to see how Bellamy is doing." Clarke asked without phrasing it as a question. Abby sighed again. Clarke noticed the light purple coloration from lack of sleep under her mother's eyes.

"Room 215. And only if his family gives the O.K. Not too late." Abby warned, knowing Clarke knew the rules, but had a tendency to bend them, especially if she knew she could get away with it.

She easily found her way to room 215. She slung her heavy backpack over her other shoulder after she knocked on the door. It was opened by a girl similar to Clarke in height but not much else. She had olive skin; much like Bellamy's and long dark hair. Her brown eyes were sad, but alert.

"Who are you?" she demanded, catching Clarke off guard. Lincoln came to the door and Clarke could see Nathan shifting on a chair to see who the new visitor was.

"Hey, Clarke," Lincoln greeted solemnly. Octavia shot a glare at him, but let Clarke in anyway.

"He's not awake yet, but he's not dead." Nathan elaborated mirthlessly.

"If he was, I'd be in the morgue instead." Clarke responded, matching his humor. Octavia just scowled.

"Didn't know your mom was a doctor." Lincoln changed the subject. Clarke just nodded and the four of them sat in varying degrees of silence for the next fifteen minutes.

"I think he's waking up!" Octavia broke through the curtain of calm to lean down next to Bellamy's head as he stirred, "Bell," she breathed, as tears filed her eyes.

"O," he responded before his eyes even opened. As soon as they did, however, Octavia was smacking him in the shoulder and the leg, anywhere other than his stomach, which was covered in stiches.

"What the hell, you asshat!" she yelled at him.

"Ow! Ow! Stop it!" and she did, but she was still fuming, "I'm sorry, O. I'll try not to get stabbed again."

"You could have died."

"But I didn't." The siblings stared at each other for a few moments before Bellamy broke first. He addressed his friends for the first time.

"Thanks, guys. Can you take her home for me?" Nathan nodded and stood up as Lincoln reached into his pocket for his keys.

"Glad you're alright, bro." Nathan said.

"Bell," Octavia warned.

"You have school tomorrow," he reasoned, nodding towards the analogue clock mounted on the wall, which read quarter past ten.

"I'll come back," she promised, grabbing her bag off the floor next to the bed.

"After school," Bellamy clarified. Octavia rolled her eyes but leaned down to give him an awkward, one armed hug and kissed him on the cheek.

"Love you." She said quietly.

"Love you too, big brother." She answered so softly, Clarke almost missed it. With that, Lincoln and Nathan guided Octavia out of the room, saluting Bellamy as they went. Clarke was about to follow them out when Bellamy stopped her.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, loud enough so she could hear, but softly enough that the change in tone wasn't deafening in the calm of night.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay." she shrugged, and turned to leave again, but again, he stopped her.

"No, I meant how did you know I was here?" he reiterated.

"Oh," she realized what he meant a second later than she should have, "I'm not stalking you or anything. I volunteer here. I was downstairs when you came in."

"Oh" was all he said. Clarke was at a loss, so she said the first thing that came into her mind.

"I have the psych summaries, if you want a copy." He gave her a sideways glance before retorting.

"I think the teachers will let it slide if I don't have my homework done for a couple of days." He gave her a small smile.

This was humor, she realized.

"Right, yeah." She still had her backpack on. The weight of it was the physical representation of the rest she needed, and knew he needed as well.

"Glad to see you're okay. I'll send the nurse in. Goodnight." And with that, she went out to the service desk down the hall to where Jackson, Abby's friend and coworker, was on duty for the night.

"Bellamy Blake in room 215 is awake." Jackson looked up at her, not surprised by her presence at all. Clarke figured her mom had called up, and told him to kick her out if it got too late.

"Thanks, Clarke. Goodnight." That, she knew, was her cue to leave. Her mom had definitely called up.

"Night."


	4. Grounders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even have an excuse. At any rate, here's the update! Reviews are greatly appreciated. Music inspiration for this installment is Such Great Heights by The Postal Service

Clarke hardly saw Bellamy after that night in the hospital, sans psychology, which he returned to after a week of recovery. She managed to find out from her mom that Bellamy was released four days after the night he was injured. The other three days, Clarke presumed, must have been orders. She didn't think Bellamy Blake was the type of guy to self-prescribe three days off. In any case, she was glad to see him back, looking much healthier than the week before. Still, it bothered Clarke that the reason for which he was stabbed with a knife remained a mystery. It was a large town, sure, and there were some not so nice neighborhoods, but who the hell does that? John Murphy apparently. It bothered Clarke how much it bothered her, which is why she decided to ask him about it when she saw him during her study hall a few days later.

It was a rainy and muddy day. Clarke liked the rain, but not in the fall when the ground became cold and squishy and everything was dying. She actually planned on spending her free period by putting her head on a desk and sleeping at one of the tables near the back. It was on her way to that precise spot when she noticed a neatly combed head on hair reading a rather large book and scribbling in a notebook. The curiosity began gnawing at her again with him sitting, unknowingly, right in front of her. He was alone at the table, so she took the chair directly across from him and waited for him to look up.

He did and gave her a puzzling look before returning to his book. Clarke tried again.

"Hi," she began and Bellamy looked up again, a piece of hair falling in his face, "Just wanted to see how you were." He nodded.

"I'm good." Was all he replied. It was evident that he was engrossed in his book, but still. Clarke prided herself in being fluent in social cues but she was having none of it.

"Well, I'm glad," she told him and he sat back in his chair, as opposed to the slouched position he had previously held, and really looked at her.

"Can I help you with something?" he asked gruffly. She looked at him, rather appalled.

"Not only am I a nice person and care about your well-being, but I also wanted to know why John Murphy stabbed you. Did you get the police involved?" he looked as though he wanted to strangle her, and Clarke was relieved that they were in a library with lots of witnesses.

"Why would I do that?" he asked tersely. Clarke's mouth hung open involuntarily.

"You were stabbed!" she whispered loudly enough that only he could hear. He only scoffed at her.

"You don't know what it was about. Drop it." He advised in a low voice. Clarke raised her eyebrows at him, clearly unsatisfied with his answer.

"If you don't speak up, I will. You can't just let someone do that to you!"

"I didn't 'just let' Murphy stab me, and you're not going to get everyone and their grandma involved because I'm telling you not to. Be as self-righteous as you want, Princess, but just remember that you don't know a thing about me." Clarke huffed at that.

"Well if you want to share, you know where to find me last period." And with that, Clarke stood up and walked off to her table in the back, knowing she wasn't actually going to be able to nap before the bell rang so she settled for reviewing her physics notes and glaring at his back from across the library.

She decided she didn't really like Bellamy Blake's attitude.

She told him so in psych as she stood by his desk before the bell rang. She gave him another chance to tell her what was up to which he rolled his eyes. He rolled his eyes after her attitude comment too. He was really getting on her nerves.

All she could think about during class was Bellamy's apparent lack of manners and his reason for being so secretive. She went home that night in a frenzy to get her homework done. Then she called Raven.

"Everything okay? You only ever call me if you want to rant about something."

"Everything is awesome. Peachy. What's that underground club you always want me to go to and I always say no?"

"Grounders?"

"Yeah. That's the one. Can we go?"

"You want to go to Grounders? Clarke Griffin wants to go to Grounders?" Raven sounded completely taken by surprise.

"Yes? That's why I asked?"

"Pick me up in fifteen, before you change your mind, and Clarke?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't wear a short dress. You're not on that level yet." Clarke hung up, only a little concerned that Raven frequented Grounders enough to give her that advice.

Honoring Raven's words, she put on a pair of dark jeans and a glittery, low cut top. She grabbed her black jacket and decided she looked decent enough. She took her hair down and left a note for her mom, who was working a late shift, that she was out with Raven.

Clarke pulled up to Raven's house ten minutes later. It was incredibly run down and Raven and her mom shared it with two other families. Clarke honked and Raven came strolling out in a short dress and a boy in tow. Raven took shotgun and the boy, who had a friendly face and long, brown hair, took the back seat.

"Clarke, this is Finn. I think I've told you about him." Was Raven's introduction.

"Oh yeah, right. Hey Finn." Clarke said by way of greeting, looking at him through the rear view mirror.

"Hey." He smiled.

"You don't mind if he comes with us, do you?" Clarke said that she did not and threw the car into drive, Raven giving her directions the whole way there.

Clarke pulled Raven aside when they got out of the car,

"Two things: Are you with with Finn or are you sleeping with Finn? And also, I left my mom a note. I didn't tell her where I was going only that I was with you, so if she calls or texts me, you have to talk me down from committing mass homicide" Raven nodded.

"One, with with Finn. Maybe. I like him a lot. Two, your mom hates me, what would you use me as an alibi for?"

"He's the one who lives upstairs from you, right? I always use you as an alibi. It pisses her off." Raven smiled and nodded again.

"Ready?" Finn called and they followed him into Grounders.

Grounders ended up being an extremely run down basement where pretty much anyone could get in if you looked old enough. The lights were dim except for the stage where apparently, local artists could play their stuff. That, or electronic dance music would play over the speaker system. The smell of beer and weed were strong, and people were crowded in the space. Clarke was thankful she left her jacket in the car. She decided to get a beer when she saw Raven pull Finn to the dance floor.

No one bothered to card her, so she got her drink and sat at the bar; looking for the real reason she came to Grounders in the first place. She spotted John Murphy leaning against the wall looking generally very pissed off.

"John!" she called over the music, approaching him. He looked menacing with a hood pulled low over his face, "John!" she called again. He responded this time, though not as she'd expect.

"The only person to call me John is my dead mother. It's Murphy."

"I don't care what the hell your name is, why did you stab Bellamy?" Murphy raised his eyebrow at this remark. He smirked, and for the first time that night, Clarke was afraid.

"He deserved it." Was all he said. Clarke played along.

"And why did he deserve it?"

"He needed me to float him some cash, so I did, and he couldn't pay up." He explained so nonchalantly, it was unnerving, however, Clarke straightened up.

"Wow, so smart of you to try and kill the guy who's supposed to pay you back." She quipped sarcastically.

"I've stabbed enough people to know he wasn't going to die, Princess."

"Why do people keep calling me that?" She decided to focus on the last part of his sentence instead of the first. Murphy just shrugged at her question.

"You got that rich bitch look about you." Clarke rolled her eyes and decided that this conversation was over, but not before warning Murphy to leave Bellamy alone. He wasn't phased by her threat and he simply called after her as she walked away, "Nice ass!" she didn't even bother turning around. Now she knew what Raven meant by skipping out on the short dress.

She made her way through the crowd and back to the bar, and Raven stumbled up to her, sweating and panting with Finn right behind her, in a very similar state.

"So club bathroom sex is awesome but coming out and seeing you talking to Murphy kind of ruined it. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Did you know he's the one the stabbed Bellamy." Raven just sighed.

"I'm not surprised but look; people on our side of town do the things they do because they have to survive. We're friends because you know that."

"We're friends because Monty and Jasper introduced us, like, four years ago."

"They introduced us because I grew up with those fuckers and they made it out. They wanted me to have a chance, too. Don't think for a second that neither of them would kill a man to survive." Now it was Clarke's turn to sigh.

"I'm not sorry for talking to him." Raven laughed at Clarke's words.

"I wouldn't expect anything less."


End file.
